Silver Glint
by NuncaTeDije
Summary: Draco's new choice will leave him trapped in Muggle London and at the mercy of the most unlikely person. DMHG Post war.
1. Silver Glint

**Silver Glint**

A silver shadow stalked his way through the heart of London. His stride was long and purposeful. His cloak billowed behind him, though the air surrounding him was deathly still. Turning into a dark ally, he halted before a large metal back door to the decrepit brick building before him. The red paint was chipping from the door as if claws had scratched at it. Slowly, he looked both ways. The glaring overhanging lights of the ally hit harsh planes of his jaw. His startlingly pale skin made him appear ghostly and his eyes, shadowed by the brim of the hood of his cloak, faintly glinted silver. Seeing no others, he pushed on the rusting bar of the door and let himself into the dim hall of the building.

He quickly found a stairwell and began to climb the dirty concrete steps. His foot steps echoed against the deafening silence as he slinked cat-like up the stairs. He slowed as he reached the seventh floor. Entering the corridor, his black gloved hand emerged from the folds of his cloak, holding a ragged piece of parchment. He glanced at it and continued until his stood before apartment 717. He rapped his knuckles against the stained and yellowing door.

There was shuffling on the other side and then the slow turning of locks and bolts until the door cracked open, revealing the face of a young woman. Her dark eyes stared at him apprehensively. Limp black hair hung loosely about her slender shoulders. He lips, a deep shade of crimson, contrasted her equally pale skin, giving her a the appearance of a vampire.

"You must be the new tenant," she said looking him over.

"Yes, that would be me," he replied in a raspy voice.

"Your friend called yesterday about you. Said I should be expecting you."

She leaned languidly against the door frame, though the door was not opened any wider.

"Your friend explained your… _situation_."

He tensed at her words, but she continued apathetically.

"I understand you can't pay now, but I'm no charity. I'll expect you work for me. I'm sure you have some uses."

His whole body had gone ridged at her words. His eyes glared menacingly and his mouth curled into a smile. Then controlling himself, his forced his muscles to relax. Regaining compose he turned his nose up slightly and looked down on her, his lips pursed as though he has swallowed something bitter.

Her face remained emotionless as she silently observed him regaining composure. She gave no sign of noticing what had occurred, though she had a slight gleam in her previously dull eyes, either from anger or amusement.

Swallowing, he spoke again. An introduction was in order. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

He made no effort to extend his hand and she made no attempt to take it.

She ignored him and quietly shut the door. He heard muffled noises before she returned the door, opening it just wide enough for her to extend her pale arm. In her petit hand, she dangled a silver pair of keys. He reached out to take the keys. He hand released them into his just as his hand came into contact with them, a silent refusal to make any sort of contact with him.

"You room is number 716, next door. If you have any questions, figure out the answers. I'll talk to in the morning about your new duties."

Quickly, she shut the door on him. He heard the scraps of the various locks. Turning to his left, he saw room 716. Unlocking the door, he cursed himself for his most recent choice.

Draco Malfoy had decided to give up magic. For good.


	2. Motives

**Motives**

Breathing heavily, Hermione Granger leaned against the locked door. The cool wood felt refreshing against her flushed skin. He was not what she had expected. He was no longer the cowering boy she once knew. He had grown taller, and despite the cloak she could tell his shoulders were broader. She shivered as she remembered the silver glint in his eyes as he looked down on her.

She gave herself a shake to clear her thoughts. He was still the same Malfoy- vain, arrogant, a brute.

She loathed him. That is why she had agreed to take this mission.

_"No, I won't let you do this."_

_"Let go of my arm, Ronald," she said, jerking out of her grasp. She glared angrily at him. He had no right telling her what to do. After breaking off the engagement, she had wanted nothing to do with him, but he still followed her everywhere like a lost puppy. At least on the mission she would be away from him. _

_He turned to face her, desperation in his eyes. "What would Harry have though?"_

_She looked away, tears forming in her eyes. Even after a year, the memory of his death still stung sharply. She thought back on that night, during the Great Battle. _

_Voldemort had penetrated Hogwarts, along with a force of Death Eaters. They were outnumbered two to one, but they seemed so sure anyway. At first they were winning. They had already taken out Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, though Tonks had been badly injured and for a few hours Neville had been missing. _

_But then, the tides suddenly turned. Draco Malfoy, who had gone missing the night of Dumbledore's death, suddenly reappeared. Harry had chased him. Hermione had gone to follow with Ron close behind, covering her as she ran, but it was too late. There was a sudden explosion and the corridor Harry had been running down collapsed. In blind fear, she continued to fight, refusing to believe that it was truly over. Finally, when Voldemort walked out from the rubble, she knew it was the end. She tried to call the retreat, but most were to exhausted to get out. It was a massacre._

_The bloodshed continued for months as families of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were hunted and killed. Those who survived now lived hand to mouth, disguised and scattered about the country. Death Eaters, no openly in control of the Ministry, routinely checked owls and monitored the floo network, making communication near impossible._

_However, the remaining members of the Order continued on. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had all managed to survive, though Ginny had become a shell of her former self since Harry's death. Together, they had become underground Aurors, mainly spying on prominent Death Eaters and trying to prevent the ongoing slaughter of anyone left in the Order and their family._

_Draco Malfoy was the last piece in the puzzle in learning how Harry died._

_Turning back to face Ron, she brushed the tears out of her eyes. "Harry would understand."_

_With that, she pivoted on her heel and walked out, ready to leave him. For good._


	3. Reasons

**Reasons**

Draco shut the door behind him, sliding the bolt into place. He wiped his hand on his cloak. The room was covered in filth. Muggle filth. He looked around the cell he would now be living in. The apartment consisted of a small bathroom, and a main room, which functioned as a bedroom, kitchen and living area. He could hear the honking of street cars outside.

He walked to the window and pulled aside the sheer, dirty and frayed curtain. Seven stories below him, he could see the shady activities of late night street walkers and drug lords. Across the street stood a broken down convenience store, it's neon lights flickering in the darkness. Satisfied that no one would search for him in this part of town, he went to inspect the rest of the apartment. He began in the bathroom, where he quickly spotted and crushed a coach roach under the heel of his boot. The porcelain sink was chipped and the mirror had a large crack in it. The toilet itself was stained permanently from hard water and rust.

Disgusted, he continued into the miniature kitchen. All appliances were missing except for an old eggshell refrigerator and a stained electric coffee pot. The living area contained a rickety plywood desk and a metal chair. A lamp missing it's shade stood on top of a one drawer nightstand. The bed was a single, with two flat yellowed pillows, rough linen sheets and a tattered woolen blanket. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

Exhausted, his thoughts began to stray.

_"I can't stay here."_

_Snape waited silently. "And why is that?"_

_"I destroyed my wand."_

_There was a shocked pause. "You did what?"_

_Draco took a deep breath. "After what happened… everything… It's all been my fault. So I'm leaving. I'll disappear into the Muggle World."_

_A twisted smile appeared on his face. "You can't possibly be serious. You'd never make it. You'd reveal your true self in days."_

_Draco met his gaze with forlorn eyes. "I know. That's why I've come back. I need your help."_

_Snape's gaze was serious now. "This isn't how we planned it. You can disappear within the Wizarding World.We discussed this. You still have allies. Someone is bound to take you in."_

_Draco stood trembling slightly. "No. Not after what happened… what I did… The Dark Lord will find out, and he will kill me. He will kill anyone who shelters me. I need your help."_

_Draco waiting, silently pleading, tears of anger and fear welling in his eyes. He had no choice. The Muggle World was the only place left he could disappear into. Besides, he had already destroyed his wand. If he stayed he was defenseless. He had no choice…_

And so came about their new plan. Snape had chosen a muggle and a location as far from the Dark Lords grasp as possible. He had magically coerced her into providing Draco work and shelter, while modifying her memory so she believed him to be some country bumpkin ignorant to the world. That had been their new plan.

He was at the mercy of a muggle.

_Just until I am forgotten._

He wished he knew how long that would be.


	4. Plans

**Plans**

Hermione woke early the next morning, the scratching wool of her simple blanket irritating her smooth thighs and unbearable after the heat of a summer night. A small metal fan wheezed in the corner, circulating the rooms stale air. She threw off the blanket at walked to the smudged window at the end of the room. Outside a red haze illuminated the decaying apartment buildings of the slum as the sun slowly rose in the East. The neon signs of the downstairs convenience store continued to flicker and an old hunched man with a graying beard stood unlocking the door to the neighboring bakery. A known prostitute was entering the apartment building, scowling as she tucked a wad of dirty bills into her stained bustier.

This was not Hermione's first choice for a living arrangement.

But this is where Draco Malfoy was, and until she knew the truth about that night, this is where she would stay.

_What possibly could have driven him to this hell?_

She had, of course, heard the rumors. Before the Order had presented this mission to her, Ginny had told her of the murmurs that Malfoy was on the run from the Dark Lord himself, that he must have done something terrible.

_Perhaps he had gone on the run out of guilt?_

She quickly shook the thought from her head. Malfoy did not, could not, feel guilt. She wasn't sure he could feel anything at all.

But Harry had felt differently.

_"You weren't there Hermione. You didn't see him."_

_Hermione sighed sympathetically. Harry hadn't been himself since Dumbledore's death. It clawed at her heart to slowly watch her best friend lose his mind. He had become fixated on the mysterious initials RAB, and on top of everything, had convinced himself he could redeem Malfoy._

_"Are you sure you saw what you think you saw? You were under so much stress. How could you tell?"_

_He ran his hand through his rumpled black hair. _

_"Yes. I'm certain. He wouldn't have killed Dumbledore."_

_He paused for a moment._

_"I think, if we should find him, we should offer him our protection."_

_Hermione's heart caught in her throat. Her head was spinning. She couldn't possibly have heard correctly._

_"You want to what?"_

_He began to pace the empty classroom where they were conducting their private meeting. Ron was outside doing extra Quidditch practice, which he had desperately needed. It gave Hermione a moment of piece. Ever since they began going out that summer, they had slowly been suffocating each other. _

_"You heard me right. I'm going to offer him our protection."_

_Hermione stared blankly at him, at a loss for what to say. Wetting his lips, he began again._

_"In his eyes there was… fear, guilt, something _good_."_

_His expression darkened._

_"It's what Dumbledore would have wanted."_

_Hermione understood, and though she didn't agree, she had put her trust in him._

His body had never been found, and the last person who he had been seen with was Draco Malfoy, and despite Harry's belief that there was some good in him, Malfoy was no fallen angel.

She would find out what happened that night.

Until then, he was at her mercy, and she would be sure to make his life _hell_.

She would begin by making him work. Most of the apartments needed a paint job. She would enjoy giving him a hard time after the years of hell he had put her through.

Moving to her closet, she picked out a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top. As she pulled her lank black hair into a pony tail, she glanced at the oval mirror she had pegged on the wall.

Cold black eyes stared back.

She smirked at her own disguise abilities.

Grabbing an apple for breakfast, she went to begin day one of her destruction of Draco Malfoy.


	5. Beginning

**Beginning**

There was a light tapping on the door.

Draco rose from the metal chair where he had spent a sleepless night and stretched. It was probably that muggle girl.

From what little contact they had the previous night, he could tell she was odd. She barely spoke and there was a manipulative air about her. She seemed preoccupied with her own sense of power, though he didn't consider slumlord true power. He momentarily wondered if she had some secret that would give her power over him, but quickly rejected the thought. From what he had been told, muggles were simple, foolish, arrogant creatures. It was likely all muggles were as strange as she was.

The tapping on the door became louder and more incessant.

He yawned and unlocked the bolt to the door. The girl stood before him, leaning languidly against the door as she had done the night before. However, the apathy in her eyes had been replaced by a certain smugness. His stomach clenched. No filthy little muggle had the right to act superior to him, let alone her. She was nothing more than another lost soul in this broken down hell. He was above her. He felt his temperature rise at the thought that something lowlier than a mudblood now dared to attempt to exert power over him. He was about to put her in her place when he had the sense to bite his tongue. He needed her- for now. This was not the time to insult her.

His temple was throbbing from the effort he was exerting on self control.

The smugness in her eyes was replaced by a glint of amusement.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," she said in a throaty voice. "I presume you're ready for your first day of work?"

There was something sinister in the way her lips curled ever so slightly upward.

He eyed her wearily. Her lank black hair was tired back, throwing her features into sharp focus. Her face was plain. There was little color in her face other than her red lips and the dark circles under her eyes. She might have been pretty, he though to himself, if she got some sun- and wasn't a filthy muggle.

But what shocked him was what she wore. This girl stood before him in nothing more than a pair of, very, cropped pants and a black undershirt. His solid upbringing had given him little exposure to muggle fashion. He had hear of it's scandalous nature, the opposite of high society's well mannered young ladies, who knew better than to prance about scantily clad in what would barley suffice as night clothes.

What made it worse was that she looked _good_.

Though her face was plain, he couldn't help noticing her figure. The shorts hugged the curve of her hips and the tight top clung to her slender waist.

As if anticipating where his gaze was drifting, she crossed her arms over her chest, bringing his attention back to her stern features. Her smirk was replaced by a slight frown.

Grinning at her annoyance, he stared into her cold black eyes.

"And what is it you plan on making me do today?"

A hint of the amusement, or perhaps malice, crept back onto her face.

"Paint. Today we will begin with painting one of the apartments on this floor."

He sighed inwardly. Painting was a task meant for house elves or to be done using a spell, but it was better than the little bitch making him scrub something.

He followed her down the hall to a door where a few cans of white paint sat patiently. He realized he had let to learn her name.

"What's your name?"

For a moment, it appeared as if she would ignore him as she did the night before.

"Hope."

_How ironic_, he thought to himself.

Inhaling deeply, he rolled up his sleeves, ready to endure his first day in hell.


	6. Torture

**Torture**

_Hope? What could have possibly made me say Hope?_

Hermione wondered at her own lack of foresight. Out of all the names she could have chosen, she picked the most ironic one.

_I should have named myself something demonic._

Hermione pulled a string of keys from the pocket of her cropped jeans and unlocked the door of the apartment. Inside the walls were stripped bare and cracks and the only window was covered in a thin layer of grit and grime. A small fan spun in the corner of the room, moving the dusty air.

Malfoy stood in the door way, waiting for her to say something. This was exactly what she had been hoping for. Revenge. Finally, time to make his life hell.

"Well, what are you waiting for," she barked at him. "Start painting. Unless the _poor country boy_ doesn't know how."

He looked at her emotionlessly and said nothing.

The room did need to be painted. In temporarily taking over the building she had agreed to renovate it as much as possible. Swearing under her breath, she decided to help him begin.

"Move the buckets of paint into the room," she ordered.

Resentfully, he did what he was told.

_I could get used to this._

And so the painting lesson began.

Overall, it reminded Hermione somewhat of a dance. They were careful never to touch each other, gracefully moving in unison to remain apart. The sound of his grinding teeth was loud enough to be some type of ghastly music.

After she was sure he had gotten the hang of it, she stepped away ready to let him do all the work. He had quickly caught on and within the hour had finished one of the walls.

"You missed a spot."

Of course, he had not, but she wasn't about to make it easy.

He looked up and glared at her.

"No, I didn't."

"Do it over."

Rage flashed across his face.

"What?"

"_Do it over_."

It took all of her self control to keep a straight face.

His hands clenched and his knuckles went white. Red in the face, he returned to the other side of the room to begin again.

_This is too easy._

She moved to stand in front of the fan. The room was sweltering.

She surveyed Malfoy from the corner of her eye. He was dressed in a casual black sweater and blue jeans. It was shocking to see Draco Malfoy in muggle clothing. It was more of a mystery where he would have gotten the clothing. The idea of him entering a muggle store was ridiculous. Snape most likely provided them for him, though the image of Snape entering a muggle store was just as disturbing.

What drove her crazy, though, was that he looked _good_.

He had rolled the sleeves of the sweater up, revealing toned arms. His jeans fit perfectly, giving her a pleasant view as he kneeled down on one knee painting the bottom of the wall.

_He must be overheating in that sweater_.

"You can take your sweater off, you know."

There was a dead silence.

Hermione felt her face go red. She had only meant to be humane, but looking back she had no idea why she had said that.

Malfoy stood still, his hand holding the brush frozen mid-stroke. Slowly he turned his head to answer her.

"No, _thank you_."

Disgust was evident in his face. He though she was hitting on him.

Then, an idea hit Hermione.

What would make Malfoy more miserable than to be under the control of a muggle who was attracted to him?

A smirk grew on her face.

She walked over to him, her hips swaying sensually. Getting as close to him as she could, she purred into his ear.

"Oh, but I wish you would."

All color drained from his face. He gulped. Unlike before, he looked more terrified than disgusted. He began to paint more furiously, as if to block out her presence. Staring straight at the wall, he made no effort to acknowledge what she had insinuated.

"Why don't you take a break?"

She began to bend down to move the bucket of paint he was using out of his reach. She wanted his full attention when she tortured him.

Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

Biting back a shriek of surprise, she looked up at him. His grey eyes, glinting sliver, bore into her. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. They both were breathing heavily. A jolt of electricity shot though her whole body.

She couldn't move. She could barely think.

_It must be the paint fumes._

She didn't want him to let go.

"_Don't. Toy. With. Me_."

Releasing her arm, he stormed out of the room and to his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Silently, Hermione cursed herself. She would not let her guard down again.

He could be sure of that.


End file.
